ently not assuaged
by the sufferings she had heaped upon him? Who now would say that he had
no need of succor, that her service was unasked, unwarranted, unwomanly,
that the duty of a pure and delicate soul was to leave him either to his
own wife or to the tender mercies of strangers?

The carriage was piled with cushions and shawls, the day was bright and
warm, Lettice was full of light gossip and cheerfulness, and Alan had
reason to think that he had never had a more delightful drive.

"Where are you taking me?" he said, with a smile of restful gratitude,
which clearly implied, "I do not care where it is, so long as I am taken
by you!"

"You are going to a convalescent home, where you will be the only
patient. If you obey the rules, you may get well in a month, and the
first rule is that you are not to ask questions, or to think about
unpleasant things."

"Are you my nurse?"

"That is the first breach of rules! They are very strict at this home, I
can tell you!"

She spoke in a playful mood, but it left him with the impression that he
was really being taken to a "home" of some kind, where he was to be
nursed until he was well. He had no objection to make. He would have
gone anywhere with equal pleasure, if he could be sure that she would be
there to look after him. His one thought in prison, when he lay in the
grip of fever, was that he must surely die before his sentence had run
out. That was his hope and belief from day to day; and only when he
heard that Lettice had come and made inquiries about him, and promised
to fetch him as soon as he was released, did any real desire for life
return to him. Now, in her presence, he was so completely happy that he
forgot all his former sufferings and despair.

Weak as he was, he would have found words to tell her of his
gratitude--and of much more than gratitude; but this because of, not in
spite of, weakness--if she had not carefully checked him whenever he
tried to speak. Fortunately, it was not at all hard to check him. He was
infirm in mind as in body. Apart from the illness, which sapped his
energies and paralyzed his power of thought, he had never thrown off the
cloud of callous and despairing indifference which fell upon him after
the fatal scene in Surrey Street. Add to this that the surrender of his
independence to Lettice was in itself a pleasure to him, and we need not
wonder that her self-imposed task seemed to her fairly easy of
accomplishment.

At Bute